2012-09-06 Lil' Miss Gotham Gone Wrong
The Little Miss Gotham Pageant. A night where dreams are made and dreams are broken. Where little girls get to show off their beauty as well as their talent in hopes of being crowned Lil' Miss Gotham. Everything went without a hitch with nothing like tantrums or fashion faux pas to be had... well, at least the contestants were fashionable. All in all, it was a perfect night. With the competition there is nothing left to do but take care of the crowning. Divided by their proper age groups, the girls are all waiting and even the youngest contestants can't help but to get into the moment, all smiles and excitement. Who will be crowned the queen? Who will take home the trophy and tiara? The emcee is poised at the podium, about to make the announcement. The tuxedo-clad man is all Hollywood smiles as he turns on his mic, his dimples on display and with envelope in hand. "Ladies and gentlemen... I am proud to announce our winners!" The various results for the different age groups are called out, one by one until it's time for the revealing of who won the grand title of Lil' Miss Gotham. The emcee's smile broadens and, with a flourish he calls out, "And our Lil' Miss Gotham is...." This pageant is the event that Heather came into town for. It was a good thing that she didn't wear the little black dress out on the streets last night. She spent like six hours showering after that sewer romp. But finally, skin red and raw, she was clean. Good thing she heals fast, because she doesn't wanna show up as a celebrity charity sponsor for the pageant looking like she spent so many hours scrubbing her flesh with a wire brush. Anyhow, she was here, smiling and pleasant all night long. After all, the kids bring out the best in her, and she's doing her best to make them all feel special with her cheers and applause. She is also on her best behavior because well... tons of photographers allllll over the place, so best not to give them anything to flip out over. Now, if she could just understand what may or may not happen to the pic of her taken last night. For the moment however, she sits forward in her seat, anxiously awaiting to hear the name of the winner, so that she can cheer them on. It's important to be seen supporting community events. Even when said events are nothing more than horrible little urchins trying to look like sexpots at the urging of their stage mothers like a modern day Gypsy. So Alan's here representing GBC, smiling at all the appropriate places, dressed in slacks and a suit and - unfortunately - alone since Samuel is in Beijing and couldn't fly in just for this. Alan wasn't going to ask either. As the culmination of all the torture is about to be announced, he smiles a genuine smile. It's almost over. Karen Starr, CEO, Starrware labs, sat at the little seat that she had sat through most of the pageant with. At the very heart of things, pageants sorta rankled her; girls putting their self worth into winning something like this. But then again, so did Olympic athletes, right? She was dressed comfortably, if a bit on the professional side - modest knee-length skirt, stockings, heels, white blouse, and business jacket. And she just so happened to be sitting near Heather. Inbetween bouts of clapping, she kinda leans over and whispers to Heather, "It's a little exciting, isn't it? Have you ever done anything like this in your impressionable youth?" she says, lifting both her brows as her smile only grows on her lips. But then comes the time for the culmination of everything, and Karen bites her lip, looking back at the stage, "This part always breaks my heart a bit," she confesses, before straightening up in her seat, staring at that announcer with his Hollywood smile. "...Becky Roberts!" Becky, a nine year old girl who is all teeth and dimples to rival those of the host along with golden ringlets and a beautiful dress to go with the entire 'look', squeals happily as she hears her name. One of the women who helped keep smoothly comes to stand behind her, tiara and scepter in hand. She is just shy of putting the former on the girl's head when the lights suddenly drop and the auditorium is bathed in pitch black darkness. It's quiet upon the stage save for what sounds like a shuffling of feet, that strange as shouldn't there be screams from the girls? The reason for the silence becomes obvious as the lights come back up, revealing the source of what just occurred. Anyone familiar with child stars will recognize the tiny 'girl' standing at center stage, the blonde actress known commonly as Babydoll in Hollywood circles. She's wearing the tiara that was meant for Becky who is knockout cold along with the other children, unconscious for reasons unknown. Flanking Babydoll are several large men, hulking figures who act as body guards as well as thugs. The mic is taken from the cowering emcee who is crouched behind his podium, mistakenly thinking that'll save him. Smiling, she moves to where everyone will be able to see her, a spotlight shining, glinting off of the sequins on her princess-like, short pageant dress and the crown she wears. "I would say I'm sorry for crashing the party," she half-squeaks out in a voice that makes her sound very young, "but seeing as how you jerks didn't invite me, I think you deserve it." Audience members start to panic when the men with Babydoll pull out tommy guns from somewhere on their person (yes, they're big enough to conceal tommy guns like that) and take aim, the weapons not yet fired but it's safe to assume they probably will be soon. "As a matter of fact, I never did pageants..." remarks Heather, "I got my start in television commer.." and that's when the lights go out. However, Heather's instincts drive her to her feet and up onto the stage. She's trained extensively for threat recognition. She doesn't have some sort of ESP. Just a good way of deducing the danger and who is in danger. When the lights come back up, Heather is already stepping up onto the stage. Even as a mook steps forward to try to shove her off the stage, the guy somehow ends up on his back, in the chair Heather -was- occupying. She herself is still striding forward. "There is a reason you weren't invited. Pageants require personality, a quality you are -sorely- lacking in." She announces, trying to draw all of the attention from the mooks onto herself and away from innocent bystanders. As the auditorium goes dark, Alan just sits there and waits. assuming that a fuse blew somewhere and it's just a matter of time till it's fixed. And as he guessed, the lights come back though it's to a scene he was not expecting. And as the machine guns come out, he hits the floor, pulling out his cellphone to dial 911. "Aww, Becky was so adorable, though," Karen says, her brow kinda furrowing with her smile, giving Heather a slightly conflicted look as she looks back to the supermodel. Karen Starr was relaxing. This was a time away from crazy scientists trying to do things with a chimpanzee monkey that animal regulations would never allow, bill collectors calling about some bill looooong past due, or her futile search for a secretary. In short, she was /relaxing/. So she didn't have any danger sense tickled, except a great swell of sympathy for the 'losing' girls, who were all winners in her book. When it got real up in here. "A nine year old?" says Karen, "And..." her eyes scan the mooks. "...Tommy Guns? Are you serious?" she says. But suddenly, she felt very serious. She wasn't quite concerned for herself - unless those things were loaded with kryptonite bullets, she would be A-Ok. But could even the amazing justice of POWER GIRL be enough to stop so many bullets at once? "Look - you have the crown," she says, standing up and stepping forward a bit, holding her hands out in a gesture of surrender. Her idea was to try to draw all the attention she could - between her and Heather, that should be great, get the tommy guns on her - so she might even step unto the stage. "So, um. Why not leave?" She says, before lowering her voice to a whisper, directed towards Heather. "I got this - trust me." Alan has the right of it by staying ducked down and out of harm's way as one man gets trigger happy and starts to spray down the first two rows with gunfire, his ire raised when Heather throws the first guy. Thankfully the people sitting there already left so there's nothing more than ruined seats to deal with instead of blood shed. The 911 operator he gets in touch with is efficient and able to get all the necessary information swiftly. Heather and Karen are both met with much in the way in the form of opposition, not just from the protective figures flanking Babydoll but from her as well. "I don't care! I should be Lil' Miss Gotham, not that blonde jerk with the caps on her teeth and knocked knees! I'm prettier, more talented AND way more deserving." As she yells she brandishes what looks like a perfume bottle that hold a sickly green liquid within it, the color just screaming 'toxic' and 'danger'. "So you all just go away and let me walk the catwalk and do my royal wave... OR ELSE!" "Ma'am, I'd take cover. These look like they mean.." *brrraaaaaaaap* A handful of bullets rip through Heather's torso. Exit wounds are not pretty... after all, these are forty-fives and have quite a punch. Heather goes to one knee and shakes her head, "Damnit... now you not only owe Becky that crown, the city of Gotham several years of detention, but you owe me a new dress." She's leaking blood from her lips as she has a lung punctured already, but the wounds are already closing. "Now, whatever's in that bottle... why don't you hand that over before I get -really- upset?" And she's stepping up onto both feet again, moving forward at a stagger. "Yes, that is gunfire." Alan tells the operator. "No, I don't think anyone's hurt yet. DOWN!" he shouts at some teenage boy next to him who was probably dragged here by his parents to see his sister compete. Wanting to watch the excitement, the kid poked his head up above the seats but Alan grabs the boy's collar and pulls him down. As for Karen Starr? When the gunfire starts shooting out, her eyes widen comically, and she stumbles on one of her high heels, kinda tripping, and rolling off the stage with a loud squeak. It was if she had tripped, and then desperately tried to roll out of the line of fire. But Alan might know the truth. As soon as the body of the CEO hit the ground - it mysteriously vanishes with a whoosh of superspeed. UP IN THE RAFTERS: Karen Starr was hopping on one leg atop a little ledge up there, where the spotlight person usually holed up - thankfully, it was vacant at the moment. As previously mentioned, she was hopping on one foot as she was trying to take her skirt off without tearing it, followed quickly by her blouse. What was she wearing beneath? Why, the white, red and gold uniform of the most fantastic superhero known to New York City - POWER GIRL. She hops forward as she finally gets to take the jacket off, stepping out of the other high heeled shoe. It was broken. But there was very little time to mourn. Heather has Babydoll looking right at her and then at the bottle she holds in her hand, it eyed by the former actress as if giving it careful consideration. "This little thing? It's nothing... here, catch!" The fragile glass vile is lobbed upwards, the sickly green liquid now bubbling as it has been disturbed, whatever it is starting to have a chemical reaction. Might be a good idea to not let the bottle break as only God knows what will happen if it makes contact with air. The boy Alan save cries out, startled by his savior's sudden actions. The operator lets Alan know that GCPD is on their way but it might take a few minutes to get SWAT on the scene. "And sir, please stay on the line," the woman requests, wanting to keep the line of communication opened between them while everything takes place." While Power Girl is still working on getting out there it gives the men ample enough time to take fire, more of the decor and other various stuff utterly destroyed while she's struggling with her clothing. (Better me than anyone else) O O o o . . thinks Heather as the vial is tossed. She blinks a bit, bulletwounds still healing, and one or two sprouting in her stomach and legs as she leaps to try to catch the bottle. Her plan is to try to prevent it from breaking, and if she must, she will curl about it... trying to use her (now more porous) body as a shield to prevent it from affecting others. The boy's mother cuffs her son on the back of his head and holds him down with her on the floor. Alan eyes the spot Karen used to be a moment but he'll ponder that further when gunfire isn't splintering the seats in front of him. Crawling over to the aisle, he quickly peeks out then pulls back again. He really needs to start carrying a gun. Clothes all situated - keeping a secret identity was troublesome, Karen looks over the edge of the platform - and clenches her teeth. She screwed up - it looks like her goofing around with her clothing meant that an innocent ended up bullet-riddled - although she still seemed to be moving, so there was still hope. She couldn't really think about that right now. Face screwing up with a look of indignation, POWER GIRL picks up the broken heel, aims it at one of the men - and tosses it with (most) of her might. She didn't want to kill him with a shoe, but she certainly wasn't going to be gentle about it. Superman, she ain't. Diving off the edge of the platform, she descends like a rocket, her eyes glimpsing towards the vial as that bullet-riddled innocent lunges for it. But Karen thought to deal with the Tommy Gun wielding goons, first. That one who was actively firing, he would find a rather strong grip on the blazing hot barrel of his gun, before she yanks it upwards, hopefully disarming him in a heartbeat. And then she was speeding towards the others, hoping to twist the guns away from each and every man, and ignoring any sort of counter-attack they may bring to bear. Poor Alan. It has to be difficult to be stuck, unable to do anything while events like this unfold before his eyes. At least he's being given quite the show while he's pinned down with no where to go. The vial is easy to catch as Babydoll is by no means a major league pitcher, but once it's in hand it'll be easily decerned that yes, it is best to keep the contents within it safe. The guy Power Girl hurled the shoe at is hit right in the face and is knocked out cold, the burly figure collapsing onto the floor in a heap. One down, three or so more to go. Babydoll screams as the heroine continues with her assault, quickly disarming the thug who is too shocked to try and keep a hold on it. The other guys stare and shoot at her, growling and snarl and yes there's a bit of ogling to go with allt his. And all the while Babydoll is screeching, throwing a temper tantrum that is just shy of epic. "No, nonono," she wails! "This isn't supposed to happen! This is NOT what we had planned. Kill them. Kill those girls now!" Outside the police have arrived and are starting to formulate an entry plan, the fact one Alan's let in on if he is still on the phone with 911. Well, it was a leaping catch. Heather isn't really one for graceful landings but she hits the ground on her back, sliding off the stage into the chairs with a rather keystone cops style crash that topples chairs down onto her. Then just when she stops sliding through them... the table with the refreshments slowly starts to collapse... before a sudden tilt drops the punch bowl right onto Heather's head. *flash!* of course someone got a picture of -that-! Shooting at POWER GIRL did very little good, overall. As one would suspect. Bullets bouncing off of her, she manages to wrest the machine guns from all the goons, her features very not pleased with the situation. "Let's /not/ kill all the little girls, alright?" she says, bringing those guns before herself. Giving one of the goons a glare, her eyes flash red, and she clasps her hands together. There were a series of little pops as the bullets were compressed, but soon enough - POWER GIRL had the machine guns crushed into the size of a baseball. Heather's climatic catch and less-than-graceful landing and Power Girl taking care of the guns occure just as the doors in the back of the auditorium open noisily and Gotham's boys in black bust in, dressed in SWAT gear and armed to the gills with assault rifles, tear gas canisters and other various tools of the trade. They spread out and sweep the large room, some looking for injured, which miraculously there are none of, before storming the stage, weapons trained on those who disrupted the pageant. Babydoll screams as one large police officer hefts her up, restraining her bodily while she hollers, yelling at the top of her voice. "I will get you all, you suckers! You will pay! PAY! You will never shun Babydoll ever again! Not if I have anything to say about it!" Her angrily voiced proclamation is joined by various grunts and grumbles as her bodyguards-slash-heavies are cuffed and led out to where the transport to jail has been parked. The chaos over with, parents start to swarm, looking for their daughters, sobbing and clinging to each other for support. And the girls? They're laying on the stage still, unharmed, finally starting to come to. The police officer in charge comes up to the front of the crowd of worried parents, raising a hand to call for attention. "Alright. I am Officer Johnson. We will be needing statements and everything. So if you all will please be calm, we can get your account as to what happened and get everyone reunited." He moves out of the way when one of his fellow cops hurries past. Alan puts his phone away then stands up and brushes himself off. That was certainly more exciting than the usual pageant. Be careful what you wish for and all that. Taking in the scene quickly, he walks over to Heather to make sure she's all right. Which he's pretty sure is the case given he's met her before. Holding up one bloody hand, Heather coughs a bit before calling out, "HAZMAT! Need HAZAMAT Disposal here!" She doesn't dare move until someone comes with a container for her to tuck the vial into and then she sits up, her wounds already fully healed, "Ow..." she mutters, "Forty-Fives sting." Then she shakes her head and looks up towards Alan. A grin spreads over her face and she shakes her head, "I imagine I need another shower, eh?" Normally, Karen Starr would chase after the villains, and bring them to justice. But that was before she had a bleeding, hurt innocent laying on the stage behind her. But still - she keeps the back portion of her mind focused in on the sound of the retreating mobsters, as she goes to kneel by Heather. "Just... hang on, okay? We'll get you medical attention quickly enough," she says - oh god, she was stained red /everywhere/. It smelled like punch a bit, but all that red wasn't just punch, right? Reaching gently over, she would try to take the vial from Heather's grasp, turning her eyes back towards the cops. "Hazmat, and a medical team, please? I... well, she's shot up pretty bad, Officer!" says POWER GIRL. Chuckling softly, Heather looks up towards Power Girl. She is actually grinning as she speaks.... which proves that she must be in shock too. "Jut the Hazmat Power Girl. I'm not exactly.. what I appear to be. I just need a power bar and I'll be fine." She looks down at her dress and sighs, "One.. two.... five... wow, seven bullet holes in one small dress. I bet... oh tell me the back isn't even worse." She mutters this as she stands up and starts trying to turn to see her own back. Rather comical though. Looking closely, one can see (especially one with super senses) the flesh beneath the shot up clothing is soft and fresh and even retains the tan it had before. Her heartbeat sounds normal too. "And a change of clothes." Alan agrees, looking over Heather. "Have you ever considered ballistic cloth clothing? Especially with the cooler weather on the way, I'd recommend a jacket at least." Glancing over at the costumes heroine, he smiles. "Glad to see you out of Manhattan, Power Girl." Which is a subtle way of asking what she's doing in Gotham, right? "Oh, hey - you're that model that had coffee that one night," POWER GIRL says, snapping her fingers and looking down at Heather. It sounded pretty casual, but Karen's features were pinched and serious as she examined the wounds. If she wasn't Superman, she also wasn't a doctor at all. But things... seemed normal. No panic, no otherwise - and her eyes travel down the back of the model, and she purses her lips. "Are you... healing yourself?" she says. When she turned her attention away from Heather, to glance towards the back - those weren't goons she heard, but police officers. Totally mistaken on her part, so she gives the officers a dazzling grin. Choosing a cute one, she says, "Hey, here's their weapons... catch," and throws him the baseball-sized ball of machine guns. "And I guess we won't need that medical team. She's... healing," says POWER GIRL, sounding a bit puzzled. That was, of course, when Alan Scott comes up, and she turns her eyes to the man. "Well; I was flying overhead, and couldn't help but hear the noise," she says, with a wink. "That, and I might have been trying to hear who won the contest. Just out of idle curiousity, you understand," she says, likewise glancing over Alan. "Yeah, that's me and yeah... strangest thing. I don't know if I -can- die. Really the sort of problem most folks would kill for eh?" asks Heather. She sighs and asks, "Anyone got a jacket I can wear before this top part falls off? Not like it's designed to have anything on underneath." She's blushing a bit as she says that, "And I really don't feel like having this be my first nude appearance y'know?" Alan nods to Power Girl. "Oh, I understand completely." Some people, for some strange reason, actually like these things. Removing his jacket, he offers it to Heather. "Here, put this on." POWER GIRL makes a face when Heather says what she does - and turns to glance towards the police officers - when Alan steps forward and offers his own. He gets a sideways sort of grin at that, her eyes traveling over Alan's features. "So - what were you doing here? Your company sponsor one of these girls, or something?" asks the costumed dynamo of justice, even as she kinda stands up - helping Heather out with a hand, if necessary. "Likely the same as me, Photo op, and a chance for a charity event donation to help these girls go on to something more with their lives after this." offers Heather as she shrugs her way into Alan's jacket. "Thanks by the way." she offers the man as she leans in, pauses to wipe blood off from her lips with a hand and then adds, "I was gonna give you a kiss on the cheek but... right now I think that'd be a bit gross." "No." Alan answers, smiling as if for a camera. "Global Broadcasting Company supports the pageant as a whole and is happy for all the competitors." Gag him with a spoon. But that's the official party line. "You're welcome." he tells Heather. "For your restraint as well. My boyfriend might get jealous." "Well, they're only nine. I think it's more about the parents than the girls, really. I know when I heard the winner announced, I could hear the cries of disappointed parents from the middle rows as they reached the heavens..." says POWER GIRL, bringing up a hand to tap the side of her head. There was a long beat at the kiss on the cheek thing - before POWER GIRL looks to Alan. At his reply, she couldn't help but smirk a bit, bringing up a gloved hand to brush through her hair. "So you work for the news - no wonder you've heard of POWER GIRL, defender of the innocent, before. I'm probably all over the news there, am I right?" she says. Probably not half as much as Superman, all told. "Always fun to meet someone who -hasn't- heard about what I do too. After all, it was rather publicized when it first happened." Heather really doesn't like -not- being the center of attention. Duh... model... actress.... yeah that makes sense. "Anyhow, I should go give them my statement and see if I can't get back to the apartment sometime before dawn. Damn, I need a burger." Work for the news? She could say that. Alan offers a hand and a smile. "Alan Scott. Owner and CEO of GBC. And yes, I always follow the stories about our costumed heroes. If you'd like to give an interview, I have some journalists and photographers who'd love to talk to you." To Heather, he says "Thank you again for rushing to the rescue." POWER GIRL takes that hand, giving Alan a brilliant smile in return. Almost, almost, /almost/ she introduced herself as Karen Starr, but as bad as she was at keeping that secret, there probably wasn't anything more than suspicions just yet. "I'd /love/ to give an interview to your station," she says, smiling even wider at that. "I'd like to think by keeping myself a little more open, people would find it just as easy to trust me as they might, oh, Superman. Just throwing a name out there," she says, gesturing with her hand as she talks. "Anyways, I probably should give a statement to the officers, and be on my way, but I'll stay in touch, Alan Scott," she says, winking towards him before turning away, back towards the police officers. Hopefully, this statement wouldn't involve officers trying to give them their phone number. Again. Category:Logs Category:Events